


30 days of Watson and Holmes

by Jsongbird2013



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Fluff, Fluffy Angst, Holding Hands, Love, M/M, do people actually read these tags?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsongbird2013/pseuds/Jsongbird2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My attempt (and hopeful success) at the 30 day OTP challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John recalls his military days and is comforted by the hand of Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1, please enjoy.

Sherlock was sitting in the middle of the parlour room floor, absently flipping through an old photo album of John's with more interest than he would ever admit. The detective smiled at pre-military pictures of his flatmate, but as he flipped through further he began smiling less and wincing more. This particular album seemed to document nothing but the doctor's military career and while most of them warrented a smile, the further you looked the more depressing it was. Pictures of John's return hit Sherlock harder than he had expected, he winced when he saw the obviously forced smile that masked pain as John slung his arm around his even more obviously hammered sister. The detective skimmed soulessly through the remaining pictures, delicately cataloguing potentially usefull information until he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
"You could have just asked" the voice to which the hand belonged murmured.  
"Yes, but what fun is that?" Sherlock asked off handedly before placing his hand over John's, reminding him that it was, indeed, still on his shoulder.  
"I don't know, you might get a story out of me." John said, promisingly. Sherlock thought on the matter for a moment before removing his hand from atop John's and motioning for him to sit down. John smirked and took a seat next to Sherlock before sliding the photo album into his own lap and flipping to the first page. The doctor breathed out heavily, trying to force every last emotional attachment out of his body. He would need to to tell this story.  
"Well," he started, "I first got my medical doctorate from the university of London before moving on to Netly where I went through the necessary courses to become an army surgeon." John explained as he displayed photos of his collage days. These of course were some of the few that would welcome wistful smiles and happy memories. But John soon continued as he turned the page to show a collection of enlistment photographs. "Not long after graduating I became an army doctor for the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers in Afghanistan." This is where John began to tense, causing Sherlock to put a hand over John's. "You see Sherlock," John began explaining as he looked the detective in the eyes, "war isn't anything like the movies. The good guys don't always win. Hell, sometimes the good guys just flat out loose. Sometimes the good guys, no, the really great guys are the ones that get shot first." John's entire body went rigid, but Sherlock could tell, he needed to say this, he hadn't said it before, he probably refused to even think about it. So Sherlock intertwined his fingers with John's reassuringly. "And sometimes, its the newest recruit, the one who you know has a wife back home, that shows up in the enfermary and you know there's nothing you can do. And of course, sometimes its you who ends up in the enfarmery." John's voice had a spark of fury in it at he squeezed the detective's hand.  
"I'm sorry, Sherlock, I can't." John finished on the verge of tears. Sherlock wordlessly pulled John into a secure one armed embrace, still holding his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was to your liking, comments are much obliged but by no means nessecary. Have a pleasant evening.


	2. Cuddeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is day two of the 30 day OTP challenge, cuddeling. It is a direct continuation of the previous chapter which I will try to achieve as often as possible but I make no promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the next chapter, I apologize for the renaming but it was either that or I post a bunch of one-shots and I like the idea of a story better. Yes, the chapters are short, I will attempt to amend that but no promises. Regardless, please enjoy.

John pulled away from the hug after a while and smiled up at Sherlock as he wiped a trace of a tear off his cheek.  
"Jesus, I'm sorry, Sherlock, I'm a mess." John apologized. Sherlock mearly shook his head and wordlessly pulled John into his lap for another embrace.  
"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked, genuinely confused by his flatmate's uncharecteristic behaviour.   
"I believe they call it cuddling, John." Sherlock stated plainly.   
"Yeah, but why?" John asked, sitting limply in Sherlock's arms.  
"Because you're sad, and I don't like it." Sherlock replied, tightening his embrace around John's waist. The man's stomach fluttered upon finding himself so close to the detective, for reasons he refused to address. Still, John couldn't help but feel comforted by his flatmate's gestures of kindness and timidly wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck. Sherlock smiled to himself and nuzzled into John's hair as he picked the man up.  
"Where are we going?" John asked when he realized he was being carried across the room.  
"According to your breathing patterns you are tired. I'm taking you to bed." Sherlock whispered his analysis quietly into the doctor's ear. John just nodded and held Sherlock closer, which Sherlock took to mean he was allowed to stay with John. So, he carried John upstairs and tucked him into bed carefully, in the same manner one would a small child, before slipping into bed with the sandy-haired doctor and wrapping his arms around him.  
"Sherlock?" John said with slight alarm in his voice as he felt the other man's long slender arms wrap around him.  
"Yes, John?" Sherlock asked cautiously.   
"Never mind," John said as he settled back into his detective's arms. His detective, now that was new, John thought on the matter for a moment until he realized that Sherlock was tracing patterns on his chest. John smiled to himself and decided that it didn't matter, Sherlock was just trying to be comforting, so he let him, and drifted to sleep in his arms. He was sure the morning would be far more awkward, and definitely full of questions, but in that moment both men were content to lie there together and catch some much needed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a new chapter tomorrow, hopefully. Please feel free to comment but know that it is in no means nessecary. Have a good evening.


	3. Gaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock get the rare chance to play Wii while babysitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I demand that you adore me because of this chapter, because its my favorite. Please enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (Which is saying a lot considering I type these in the memos on my phone. I shit you not.)

Sherlock awoke in John's bed to find himself alone much to his dismay. The detective rolled out of bed, still hazy after his first full night of sleep in longer than he would care to remember. He rubbed his eyes and tugged at his clothes, just now realizing that he had not changed out of his street clothes last night. When he regained proper vision he had already stumbled into the parlor, there he noticed a note on the door that read:  
"I promised my coworker at the clinic that I would babysit her son today. I'll be back with Trevor around eleven, please be nice to him. Thank you for last night." Sherlock noticed where John's hand had shaken while writing the last sentence and smiled to himself before checking his watch. It was 10:30, still thirty minutes until John's return; Sherlock took the note from the door and stuffed it in his trouser pockets before sauntering over to the shower. The man sighed and let the water run through his hair. Because that's what people do, isn't it? When the don't understand something and they have time on their hands. Sherlock didn't quite understand why he was comforting John, or why he assumed taking a shower would help. All the too hot water seemed to do was leave red scold marks on his skin that disappeared shortly after he got dressed. Once he was ready he glanced at the clock again only to have his question answered by the sound of the door unlocking. Sherlock restrained the desire to smile as his favorite experiment walked into the flat with an eleven year old boy at his heels.  
"Morning, John." Sherlock said with his usual nonchalance.   
"Morning. So, Trevor, this is Sherlock, Sherlock, this is Trevor." John's introductions fell out of his mouth in a rush before he pulled Sherlock aside.  
"Sherlock, I know this isn't really your fortè, but what the hell am I supposed to do with an eleven year old boy until ten?" John asked, obviously panicking.   
"Until ten?"  
"His mother has a funeral to go to out of town, but what do I do until she gets back?" Sherlock realized that John had never thought of it, and he had never dealt with such a tedious issue, so he did the most logical thing.   
"Trevor, what do you want to do today?"   
"You folks have a T.V.?" The boy asked, his inflection showing that he was already bored to tears.  
"Yeah, over there." John replied, pointing over to their television set. The boy nodded and walked over to what must have been an ancient artifact of technology in his eyes. Sherlock sighed and plopped down in his armchair, mentally preparing himself for a day of crap tele. Even with his eyes closed he knew that something was off and had his suspicions confirmed by John's question to Trevor.  
"Wait what are you doing to the television?" John asked upon seeing Trevor in mess of wires.  
"Setting up the Wii." Trevor answered as he plugged in the white console he had just pulled from his bag. John mearly sat himself down, figuring he'd just leave the boy alone, its not like he could make their dinosaur of a television set any worse. However, he couldn't help but smile when the boy's face came to life as he slayed monsters and saved princesses. A few hours into his quest, or at least it felt like a few hours, John and Sherlock had lost count, Trevor turned and looked at John sadly.  
"Mum says I have to do my homework while I'm here, but you and your boyfriend can play the Wii while I work." Trevor offered kindly.   
"Alright," John complied and began to clear a space for Trevor to do his assignments among Sherlock's experiments. Sherlock noticed the lack of 'we're not a couple' of course, but chose to ignore it.   
"Don't touch those." Sherlock warned instead with a certain sharpness to his voice as Trevor began his work.  
"Alright, Mr. Holmes, how about you best me at tennis while the boy works?" John offered in a playful tone as he located 'Wii Sports' among Trevor's various other games.  
"I'd like to see you try," Sherlock retorted as he nimbly caught the Wii remote that had just been tossed in his direction. And with that the match began.  
It wasn't until Sherlock was winning and John still had no points to speak of that the doctor began to get truly competitive. John swang his remote with a fury that was quite amusing to Sherlock, that is, until that fury hit him in the nose. Sherlock cursed under his breath and resigned to a seat on the couch.  
"Oh, Jesus, Sherlock, I'm sorry are you okay?" John dropped his remote and rushed over to Sherlock's side as Trevor peeked over some beakers at the men.  
"Yeah I'm fine." Sherlock replied as he tilted his head back while his nose began to drip blood.  
"No you're not." John said as soon as he noticed the blood. And of course, he did what a doctor should, he rushed to the kitchen to retrieve a damp washcloth and pressed it to Sherlock's nose, demanding that he sit still for once in his life and keep his head tilted back. After much coaxing and reprimanding Sherlock did as he was told, John checked the damage he had done every few minutes until the blood had stopped.   
"Oh God, I'm sorry, are you alright?" John asked, obviously in a state of distress.  
"I'm fine John, seriously, shouldn't you be more worried about Trevor who is staring at us as opposed to doing his school work despite the fact that his mother will be here in an hour or less" Sherlock replied.   
"Me? I'm fine, you two, on the other hand, ought to kiss and make up." Trevor snickered at them from across the flat, but before John could protest Sherlock had pulled him into an embrace and placed a sweet kiss on his head. That was when John began to make up his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys know thaf I adore you for reading this? At some point the number of hits this has doubled within three hours last night! Also, before you throw a fit, some people will bring their Wii with them places. -guiltily raises hand-


	4. On a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both John and Sherlock are quite excited for their date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm wicked sorry for my tardiness, if you'd like details and excuses those are in the endnotes. Otherwise, I apologize, please enjoy this abnormally long chapter as a reparation.

Trevor’s mother came around ten, as promised, in order to retrieve her son, who was scolded on his way out for not finishing his assignments. John chuckled under his breath as the little family bickered their way out of the flat, he had many less than fond memories of his mother getting cross with him for similar reasons. His train of thought was abruptly ended as Sherlock brushed up against him.

“Sorry,” He muttered, though John couldn’t determine why he was apologizing.

“What?” John asked, genuinely confused.

“For earlier. In front of Trevor.”

“Sherlock, it’s fine” John assured him, when suddenly a thought occurred to the doctor.

“But, do you know how you can make it up to me?” Sherlock raised his eyebrows upon hearing John pose the question.

“You said its fine, I hardly have to-”

“Take me to dinner,” John interrupted with an impish smile. Sherlock’s mouth hung agape in slight shock. It was a pleasant surprise, but it was just that, a surprise.

“Oh.” was the only word the detective could manage.

“Oh?” John asked, hoping he hadn’t gone a little too far.

“No, I mean, yes. Yes, dinner.” Sherlock stuttered before composing himself as a cocky smile plastered itself across John’s face and he walked confidently before being stopped by a question.

“John, is this a date?” Sherlock asked, his lack of social skills as glaringly obvious as ever.

“I don’t know, make a deduction.” John said with playful audacity, and left to his bedroom.

“Oh my god.” John sighed to himself with a smile on his face and a his face in his hands. Even he had surprised himself with his own dauntlessness. Did I just flirt with Sherlock Holmes? He asked himself, grinning like an idiot. I’m not even gay though. I mean, at least I don’t think so but, I mean, he’s not a man, not really, he’s Sherlock Holmes, he’s different. John tried reasoning with himself but each and every time his logic ended in either fallacy or him being at the very least bisexual.

 

That night both John and Sherlock found sleep evasive; nerves and excitement have a tendency to push sleep away on their own, but when combined, they were an unstoppable force of restlessness. Sometime well after midnight Sherlock gave up on staring at the backs of his eyelids and had grown bored of staring at the ceiling, so as a last resort he moved to the kitchen to work with a new experiment. Not long after John sauntered out of his room in search of a cuppa only to find several already out on the counter. He blinked several times only to realize that among the many, many cups of tea stood sherlock carefully measuring sugar. The doctor raised his eyebrow at the spectacle.

“Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?” John asked.

“An experiment, obviously.” Sherlock replied.

“With tea?”

“Yes, I believe that one is to your liking.” Sherlock said while pointing to a cuppa within John’s arm length. The doctor grabbed the tea and brought it to his lips, casually.

“John?” Sherlock broke the silence cautiously.

“Yes?”

“Are you dead set on it being dinner?” Sherlock asked, setting down a pipette of milk.

“No, why?” John asked hoping Sherlock wouldn’t reschedule their date for a case.

“Well, it’s five in the morning, obviously neither of us can sleep, and I have nothing to do all day.” Sherlock said as he peered into a cup of tea like he was looking for the lochness monster in its depths.

“Well, I suppose any time is fine.” John asked, relieved.

“Great, get your coat.” Sherlock said, looking up with a satisfied smile. John smirked to himself, of course the detective would mean now. But he grabbed his coat nonetheless and tugged it around his jumper clad shoulders. Sherlock smiled lightly at John and took the doctor’s hand in his own to lead him out of the flat. John attempted several times to hail a cab all to no avail, however it took Sherlock only one attempt. John  stepped into the cab behind Sherlock, still impressed with his ability to get what he wants with far less effort than John. The detective spat an address at the cabbie and gave John’s hand a squeeze.

“Where are we going?” John asked.

“Breakfast,” Sherlock replied, never losing his typical vagueness. John merely nodded, alright then, he thought as his eyes scanned over the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes, wondering what exactly was going on in his indecipherable head. Then Sherlock tapped the doctor’s knee with a smile.

“We’re here,” He whispered John smiled and left the cab behind Sherlock to find himself standing in front of a little cafe. John smiled and followed Sherlock inside. The pair sat down at a small table near the window.

“So, since this is breakfast, do you still owe me dinner?” John asked, sarcastically

“No, but you owe me a warm bed.” Sherlock replied with a wink that made John’s stomach flutter, however the only indication he gave of his nerves was a smile and a light blush. A while later John ended up with a cup of tea and Sherlock with a coffee and they spent the morning talking pointlessly until Sherlock interrupted John with an important question.

“John, are we a couple?” He asked.

“Sherlock, I’m not-” he cut off mid sentence with a sigh, avoiding a lie. “Maybe.” He settled on that word because he wanted to answer yes but he just couldn’t, not yet.

“You don’t need to answer right away, I just want to know.” Sherlock said, suppressing a sigh. He wanted to hear a yes, he wanted John to be his and only his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel awful about not posting, but I babysit on the weekends, which normally I can work around but I've been really sick, (I actually typed most of this on my cellphone in the doctor's office.) I have antibiotics and should be better soon so don't worry about me. I promise I wasn't off partying and neglecting you guys, I was laying in bed sleeping and listening to Welcome To Night Vale. If I had a laptop I swear I would have updated regardless of my illness however, you may or may not know that all of this has been typed on a smartphone, so the small screen was not very soothing for my tired sickly eyes. (oh yes I am ever the drama queen) My apologies as always.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it! Please comment any praise or even prompts you'd like me to write! :)


End file.
